


A Man In Hell

by PyreWrites



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: But here it is, EFA Fic Challenge 2018, Gen, I have no idea where this even came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyreWrites/pseuds/PyreWrites
Summary: Well here is my entry into the EFA Fic Challenge 2018 based on the single-word prompt “Rain”.Like I said in the tags I have no idea where this came from. I just started writing and this happened.





	A Man In Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Well here is my entry into the EFA Fic Challenge 2018 based on the single-word prompt “Rain”.
> 
> Like I said in the tags I have no idea where this came from. I just started writing and this happened.

They say a man in hell prays for ice water. Or some such pretentious shit like that.

They never ask what a man that escaped hell prays for.

 

Bobo Del Ray had been topside for the better part of a century. How long he had been down South was a bit harder to nail down. He could pinpoint the day he died and the day he was resurrected, but calling that how long he had been gone assumed that time worked on Earth the same way it did in hell. By the calendar, it was a few decades. If he had to guess, it had felt like at least a few millennia of Sisyphean torment.

The tricks he had learned while he was there, along with his effective indestructibility and immortality once he returned topside, weren't worth the tradeoff. The moment his feet touched real dirt he set about finding any and every way he could to ensure he would never go back. He built himself an empire inside the Ghost River Triangle by any means necessary.

He corrupted those he could. He killed those he couldn't. He made deals and alliances when it was advantageous. Sometimes with other Revenants like Lou (until that fell apart because rarely can two individuals with such similar ambitions coexist in such a small space with such limited resources), or The Seven (who he never really controlled as much as simply focused their homicidal chaos in useful directions). Humans he used when it suited him, under the guise of making a "deal". Most recently there was that weaselly, spineless little shit Criterman. A typical self-important, self-entitled bully that gets off on pushing around better people than himself because he thinks his money, his name, and his job give him the right. Like so many Revenants that flock to Bobo, Criterman and his ilk make it almost too easy for Bobo to twist them to his will.

But easily the most satisfying in all that time was the reluctant Heir, Ward Earp. Or at least it had been until The Seven went off book. He had been so close, only a matter of hours, from being free of this damned curse. From being _free_. Never again would he have stood at the edge of the Triangle looking out at the rest of the world that was denied to him. Never again would he have wondered how long until he felt those flames crawling up his skin once more. But the haphazard bloodlust of The Seven ruined the best chance he'd had in a century. The Heir was dead and he was stuck babysitting and conditioning the next Heir for the next 13 years until he could try again.

Bobo was furious. He had stabbed or shot over a dozen Revenants in the trailer park. But no amount of violence against those that couldn't die was going to make him feel better. He considered cutting a bloody swath across the Triangle, but that would only draw attention that he didn't need. Instead, he grabbed a set of keys off of whoever the hell he had just temporarily killed and climbed into the dead assholes car. He saw Levi jogging towards him, and with a flick of his wrist Bobo sent him flying out of the way, before peeling out of the trailer park.

He drove north. Away from the trailer park. Away from the Revenants. Away from Purgatory. Away from the god damned Earps.

He cranked the radio in a futile effort to drown out his thoughts. He cranked the heat in an equally pointless attempt to chase away the chill. The one thing he had never expected upon returning to Earth, after seemingly centuries of Hellfire searing through his flesh until he was little more than a still aware and feeling pile of blackened bones only for it all to start anew, was how damned cold he would be. He had found a decent coat only a few days after he returned. Well, he murdered the original owner and taken it. Now he wore it even on the hottest summer days. He was still cold.

He drove into the foothills, nearing the edge of the Triangle, and pulled off onto a dirt road that almost existed, running parallel to the boundary. After a couple of miles, he stopped when the road did. He slipped out of the car and quickly shed his coat, tossing it across the front seat. He stripped to the waist, his clothes joining his coat, along with his boots. The sound of the car door slamming was lost in the rolling thunder echoing between the peaks. Bobo strode barefoot and half-naked into the woods.

A short time later he stepped into a clearing just as the sky opened. He threw his arms wide and his head back, welcoming the downpour. While the water was no colder than he already was, he did enjoy this one instance of the chill. The sensation of cold water working its way down his body was such a stark contrast to the unending fire creeping up his flesh. These moments reminded him of when he was Robert. Reminded him of when he was still _human_. Reminded him of what he might get back if _he_ was the one to break the curse.

A bolt of lightning struck a tree on the far side of the clearing.

He watched as it burst into flame.

He watched as it burned.

He watched as the flames sputtered and died.

A smile slowly spread across his lips as he hoped it was a sign.

 

A man in hell prays for ice water.

This man that escaped hell prays for rain.

 


End file.
